Southern Growl
by VanyaElda
Summary: Sometime after 'Dead End', Lindsey is still looking for answers and much to his disgruntlement, his curious younger brother tags along. Brotherly rivalry and banter ensues. Beware, country boys ahead. One shot.


It was not typical of me to bring family on a trip to do some of my dirtier work. There was too much room for the chance that they could get in my way or hurt. Actually, I had done my best to keep this darker world from them, but my youngest brother Ethan was damn persistent and had overheard a little more than he ought to have. He had all but begged me to bring him with me tonight. For whatever reason, I had obliged. I was still trying to convince myself that it had been the better choice. Rather than letting the idiot follow me on his own and most certainly get himself killed, I had stuck him in my truck and told him to sit on his hands. He was still liable to do something stupid, but at least now my sister-in-law couldn't blame me for leaving him to his own dumbass devices.

The night was pretty uneventful so far. We had been sitting in the same parking lot since just before dusk staring at the pair of old run down storage buildings as I waited for my man of the hour. Glancing at my watch, I curbed my desire to swear as Ethan was restless enough already. I didn't need to let him know that I had kept us there for the better part of six hours.

I scowled and shifted in my seat. This was damn aggravating. I had been told this guy would show by midnight. That he was like clockwork. Clockwork my ass! The next time I saw that slimy bastard Lewis who had sent me on this goose chase I was going to show him where to shove that clock with my-

"Got 'im," I said as raised up from my slouch when the gangly old man with angry looking scars up and down his arms finally hobbled up the side of the building, draped in something close to rags.

I snickered at the helpless state of his choice of clothing and the fake limp; the guy really was going out of his way to fit into the scenery. This had to be the look out for the place. He looked exactly as Lewis's informant had described him. Before I had dusted the whiny fang-face, that is.

My brother tilted his head slightly, seemingly unimpressed with the man we had been waiting hours for. "Sure is a sorry lookin' cuss," he drawled in his deep southern growl.

"Don't let the gimp act fool ya." I glanced over the 'homeless man' from checking the rearview mirror for anything lurking in the shadows at the tiny park to our backside. "He's gonna be pretty damn spry come five minutes from now."

I checked my pockets for my knife. Never went anywhere without it these days. To back that up, I had a crucifix tucked beneath my stretched and faded Brooks and Dunn tour t-shirt and a small bottle of Holy water with a very persuasive spritzing cap clipped to the pocket of my jeans that had seen better years. Digging into my jacket, I realized I was without another all important tool of this reckless trade. I nodded to the bag in the floorboard. "Give me a stake."

Of course rather than listening to me, Ethan had been staring in disgust at the old man who was now curled up to the side of an old crate and picking at scabs. Likewise he looked thoroughly confused when he glanced around. "A wha'?"

"A stake, dipshit. In the bag," I jabbed a finger towards his feet. "I showed one to ya earlier. Piece of wood 'bout yay long." I held up my hands at what I had to guess was eight to ten inches apart. "Real pointy."

I could practically hear him roll his eyes as he pawed through the bag, grumbling something about me being a 'jackass' as he did so which made me smirk. He sat back holding one of the stakes I had made from an old table leg. Ethan had gaped at me like I'd sprouted damn wings when I told him to bring what he could home from his job as a demolition and masonry man on a construction team. After giving it a close inspection, he slapped the weaspon down into my outstretched hand.

"Just don't understand why yer usin' damn toothpicks when ya could be usin' a .22," he practically mumbled as he shook his head.

I snorted and grinned in amusement at the ignorance. I had trouble remembering that I had once been that naïve. Granted, there were times where I wished that I was just some contractor's grunt worker with a wife and a kid on the way like him; that I was _normal_. But heck, who really was perfectly normal _and_ happy in the good ol' Home Office?

"They just don't work that way, Ethan." I shook my head as a burst of a chuckle found my throat. "Has to be wood. Through the heart," I explained and tapped the blunt end of the stake to my chest. "Or a clean chop to the neck."

"Shit…is that all?" Ethan dismissed me with a dry laugh. "Don't ya remember what that old Winchester could do to a ten pound pun'kin?" For an added effect he made noisy squishing sound with his mouth like the sickening pop of a coon that's been on the side of the road for too long and flicked his hands outward like they were the debris of some explosion before him. "Nasty mess right there."

Rolling my eyes, I pushed the stake into a spring loaded guard attached to my wrist beneath my jean jacket until I heard the mechanical click that told me I better watch who I was flexing my wrist at for the time being. Holding out my palm to Ethan, I flapped my fingers insistently which he grumbled in response to. I gave him an all-knowing-big-brother sort of smug look when another stake found my hand.

"You'd be dead before you got a chance to reload 'er for the next one," I told him slowly.

Without missing a beat, he slapped an agitated palm across the dash before shooting me a wide-eyed look of exasperation. "Get ya a double then!" he retorted loudly.

My eyes narrowed moodily. The boy was stubborn as the day was long and I had no time for a ball busting match. "Would ya quit stallin' me and shut the hell up?" I hissed at him with a leer. Punching a finger through the air, I pointed out the windshield. "He's gonna hear yer big flappin' mouth if ya keep it up. They have freakishly good senses that you wouldn't believe how good even if I told ya."

Ethan smiled a little and his lids became sheepishly heavy over his blue-gray eyes that matched mine, according to my sister anyhow. He looked damn pleased with himself for still being able to push me to the boiling point.

"Only seems righ' for a freak," he rumbled lowly as he adjusted the faded Astro's cap atop his matted dirty blonde hair that was long enough to curl around his ears. My scowl turned wryly upward. Mama had been right the day before. The boy sure could use a trim.

I pointed the stake at him and arched a defensive brow, knowing he wasn't going to like what I had to say. "Now, like I said before, you don't leave this truck for _anything_-"

"Ah, come on now, Lindsey! Cut the big-brother bullshit!" he interrupted angrily and yanked a buck knife from his boot. "I didn't come out here just to sit and fucking watch." He gave me a defiant side-long glare as his tense hand twisted the wide blade against the dash. 

Leaning toward Ethan, I gave him a hard frown as both of our jaws set. "And I never once gave ya the impression that you were gonna do anything but," I said pointedly, making his scowl darken.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at how childish he was acting. It was like we were kids fighting over the last scoop of Mama's mashed taters again. I was starting to understand why my sister-in-law Jenny put up with his antics, she probably thought that moody pout of his was cute or something.

Glancing away from him, I cleared my throat. There was just one more piece of business to take care of. "If this son-of-a-bitch manages to take me down, you leave me and get your ass right the hell out of here." I jangled the keys that I intended to leave in the ignition for him. "You see me again? You take daddy's choppin' axe to me 'cause I ain't me no more," I added flatly.

I actually had thought about what it would be like to be turned before. For one reason or another, I had in my head that I would be one badass vamp. And that scared me a little. I'd rather he dusted me than take a chance of me getting near my nieces and nephews.

Still, as stubborn as Ethan was, he could be pretty damn gullible. "Don't even listen to me if I say otherwise. Understand?"

"Yeah, I got it," he huffed and dropped his head back to the seat. "Go on then." He waved me off and punched the dash in frustration. "Just shitin' myself over the chance to see ya get yer ass kicked by grandpa over there."

I twirled the stake in my hand before lifting up my leg and sliding it into my boot. Straightening my jacket anxiously, I sighed as I gripped the coiled length of thick rope that was on the seat between us. Checking the rearview mirror once more and then seeing that the old man had no intention of moving any time soon, I shoved open the creaky driver's side door. "See ya in a bit," grunted to Ethan as my feet found dusty pavement and gravel.

I let out a heavy breath as I quietly closed the door and started across the lot, picking up speed as I went. A wicked grin crossed my face as I mumbled a final thought under my breath, "Wonder if this piece-of-shit knows what it's like to be hog-tied."


End file.
